Running 2018

So, today I ran what may be my last run of the year.  6.7 miles is a very common distance for me.  Once a week or more (on average), I meet up with my friend of many years, Lauren, and usually at least once a week we will run a 6.7 mile loop that begins and ends at her home.  I usually run it faster than an hour.  Today, it took well over an hour.  but it involved a 500 foot altitude climb in a little less than a mile.

Why did I do that run?  I did it because this is the fourth or fifth year in a row that I have reached the overlook point at the summit of Massanutten. I enjoy doing it at least once a year on vacation.  I am not sure how many more years I will be able to do it at a run.  But it is a measure of my ability to still run hills--big hills.

I remember what may have been the first time I did it--I was training for the Comrades (ultra)Marathon.  That is a 56 mile run in South Africa with some wicked hills.  It was months in advance but a good indicator of things to come.

In the years since Christmas 2015, I have continued to do it.  Each year before this year, I was worried about my time.  This year, from the time I turned the corner past the last condominium development on the mountain till I reached the top (about 0.9 miles), I didn't look at my watch at all.  I just enjoyed going up and up and up.  Being sure to put one foot in front of the other.  Working very hard.  Meeting the continued up with energy I had.  Not worried about my time.  Just focused on keeping up the run to the top.

When I reached the summit, I stopped to take a few photos before coming down.  The down was also slow given how steep it was and a desire to be careful.

This is a good way to close my running year.  I ran 2122.2 miles.  This is the fourth calendar year in which I have exceeded 2000 miles (2014, 2016, and 2017 were the three earlier years.)  Never one to "just get something done," the least miles I'd run before when exceeding 2000, was 2222.2.  So, this year I have run 100 miles less, but still substantially over 2000 miles.

The fact that I just ran and did not worry about time was symbolic of my entire year.  I ran most of my miles with others this year.  We almost always had a route planned, a distance planned, or a time planned (or all three).  But with a small number of exceptions, we just ran.  Lots of conversation.  Lots of friendship.  Just taking it all in.

A year with "no particular place to go" in terms of my running.  And sometimes, having "no particular place to go" is a good thing.

It means I can really be present.  I'm not looking ahead as I'm not "headed" someplace.

It means I can enjoy because I am appreciating what I have and not planning ahead.

It means I can take it all in.

It is not a bad way to approach life.  Of course, there are times when I have goals.  There are times when I plan ahead.  There are times when I have goals.  Those aren't bad.  But they can draw the focus away from the present.  This has been a year of simply being present in my running.

It made me think of some lines from the Christopher Robin movie of 2018.

One quote, "Your life is happening right now in front of you."  Definitely a good thought for this morning and for running and life in general.

Another quote, "Sometimes, when I'm going somewhere, I wait.  And then somewhere comes to me."  Clearly, I am always coming to things when I am running.  But this has been a year of a lot of "waiting" to see what happens.  I stayed healthy. I enjoyed.  I grew friendships.  I had an opportunity for much mindfulness.  Plenty of great things came to me as I covered the ground.

Finally, "I always get to where I am going by walking away from where I have been."  Each time I run, I continue on.  I see what the run brings.  One run at a time.  One mile at a time.  On step at a time.  Again, great for this morning's steep hill, great for running in general, and great for life in general.

So, I have learned a lot this year about mindfulness and presence from running.  Be in the moment.  Take in what comes.  Enjoy.

If you run, what has your running taught you in 2018?  If you are not a runner, what other activity do you do and what have you learned? 

On the Seventh Day I Ran Alone

The week began after what would normally be

The last long week of marathon training for me.

But I planned to run sixty miles this week, with a long one,

While seeing just how many smiles for other runners

I could manage.

On the first four days,

I ran with a different person each day.

Listening to four unique stories.

Sharing some parts of my life multiple times.

Sharing some parts of my life specifically relevant to each fellow runner.

I’ve known them for as many as seven years

Or as few as two.

On the fifth day I ran with the runners from days two and three

And had a good run by the boat in the harbor for fleet week

Noting that there was more security than in past years.

On the sixth day I was on the local rail trail

For the first time in months

With the running partner with whom I’ve been running longest.

She joined me for more than thirteen of the twenty

I ran that morning.

We had a long talk,

Reflecting on many things we have talked about before

And adding some things that were new that day.

I made her laugh while running south,

And it was good.

On the seventh day I was able to reach sixty miles.

On that seventh day, I ran alone.

The alone time gave me a chance to barely speak,

And to appreciate the runs earlier in the week.

One time running alone makes me appreciate

All the time on runs with my running family.

For time is the most precious thing I can share

And sharing time running builds lasting friendships

As we exercise, struggle and share together

Over and over,

With one thing that keeps us together,

A desire to share uninterrupted time

Over and over.

That means something.

That means family.

Real Miles

A lived mile is a real mile.

In a lived mile I am present for…

Every one of the thousand or more foot striking strides.

Every drop of sweat—

   Glistening on every square inch of my exposed skin,

   Pooling on the small of my back,

   Spewing in every direction in the summer heat,

   And soaking through any shirt I may wear,

   Making me want to throw on a dry shirt

   Before walking the farmers’ market after a Sunday run

   Or before I enter a fellow runner’s dwelling place.

Every breath and heart beat

   Oxygenating blood and moving

   It to striving muscles.

Every sight,

Every sound, and

Every smell of my city

Every drop of rain,

   And flake of snow,

   And gust of wind when the weather is not perfect.

Every glorious sunrise

   When the weather is perfect.

And when I am lucky enough to be

In the presence of another runner,

My lived mile is being present for…

Every shared stride,

Every coordinated turn,

Every life story,

Every word spoken,

Every word heard,

Every smile shared,

Every high five,

Every hug at the end of a run.

Being present for the mile makes it real.

Recording or reporting it does not augment reality.

Mile Repeats--Memory Repeats

Workout this morning—mile repeats on the treadmill.  Warm-up with an 8 minute mile.  Run 5x1 mile at 6:40 with ¼ mile at 10:00/mile between each.  Cool down with an 8 minute mile.  That puts me at 205.5 for the year.  Hopefully I’ll be able to feel safe (from slipping) for a run outside tomorrow morning.  The distance puts me just west of West Newton, PA on PA 136.  I continue along.

Mile repeats makes me think of other things that repeat in my life.  Yesterday, for example, I was reminded of the Boston Marathon last year.  Just a simple thing.  Looking at something that reminded me of my first post after the race to everyone who had heard about the bombing.  Telling them I was safe.  And telling them not to worry.   Repeating a memory.  A bit different obviously from mile repeats but worth thinking about what is not (and what is) similar. 

What stands out as I repeat the memory?  As I look back, I realize that I had no concept of just how worried people were.  My wife was worried.  My Godmother was worried.  My cousins were worried about their brother.  My colleagues were worried.  My fellow runners back in Baltimore were worried.  At first, no one had any idea of what had gone on.  How many were injured?  How many were killed?  Would there be more violence?  When would it end?

All I knew was that I was safe and away from what appeared to be the danger—although no one actually knew.  And I was with two friends with whom I had shared the drive up, had spent two nights in a hotel, had traveled to the staging area with, and was ready to travel home with.  And I had a chance to take a shower and gather my thoughts.  And I had seen the sites on the television in the hotel lobby.  And I had seen the many emergency vehicles rushing toward the scene of the explosion.  And I felt better.  And I was warm.  And I was ready for the drive back to Baltimore.  And I had run close to my fastest marathon.  And I was ready for whatever came next.

I have thought on multiple occasions that I was “finally past” the events of that day.  I have also thought on multiple occasions that I will never be fully past the events of that day.

On this day of repeats, I find myself repeating some of the feelings and emotions of that day in April last year.  And I find myself realizing that the feelings can come and go.  And will continue to come and go.  And that I will never fully shake it.  And that those around me will probably never fully shake it either.

Some day people will ask, “Where were you when you found out about the Boston Marathon bombing in 2013.”  And I will say, “On the Boston T headed toward Government Center.”  And when I do I will revisit the feelings and revisit the emotions and revisit the anger and revisit the fear and revisit everything that I felt that day. 

Mile repeats are generally a positive thing while revisiting the post-Boston marathon memories is not.  Mile repeats are something I control while the post-Boston marathon events were not and the memories are not.  What I do have control over –each time I find myself brought to the memories—is how I handle them.  I control just how much I dwell on them.  I control just how much I focus on them.  I control just how much I let it affect me. 

And dealing with what I can control while leaving behind what I can’t is a lesson both for my mile repeats and my memories of Boston and it is what keeps me sane.